


Betrayal

by OfUruksAndOlogs



Category: Middle-earth: Shadow of Mordor (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, Mild Blood, Minor Violence, Swearing, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:07:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22685236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfUruksAndOlogs/pseuds/OfUruksAndOlogs
Summary: “You don’t understand it, do you, pinkskin?Uruks are not made for lovin’. They are made for killin’.Don’t know why you even tried. Crazy Tark.”
Comments: 8
Kudos: 43





	Betrayal

**Author's Note:**

> An imagine made into a whole scenario, originally posted in four different parts at OfUruksAndOlogs on Tumblr.  
> The Tark (Reader) is betrayed by their Uruk lover, and faces the reality of an orc's true nature.
> 
> Comments and suggestions are welcome!

“You don’t understand it, do you, pinkskin?”

A gasp came out as his grasp on your throat tightened. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak. Eyes watering up, tears threatening to fall. The twisting pain in your heart was greater than the pain from the lack of air in your lungs. Why was he doing this…?

His hot breath hit your skin. There was a sickening grin in his face, showing off all of his fangs at once. He stared at you like a child with a new toy – ready to play and wreck you.

“Uruks are not made for lovin’. They are made for killin’.”

“P-please…!”

He laughed at your pathetic pleading.

“Don’t know why you even tried. Crazy Tark.”

You yelped as he finally released you, throwing you against the stone wall, and you hit your head pretty hard when you landed. With your vision momentarily blurry, you tried standing up quickly, only to receive a punch to your cheek. It made you bite down on your own tongue, and your mouth was then filled with blood, a trail of red running down your chin. Hell, you could feel a tooth coming loose.

“Y’know, Tark, it was fun for a while.” He made his way towards you slowly, smirking while you attempted to back away from him. “Makin’ you believe you got me wrapped ‘round your finger… Makin’ you scream my name. You really thought I liked you! But all you did was slow me down. You’ve been keeping those Uruks too distracted. You need killin’, Tark.”

You spit on the floor and raised your head to glare at him. Your heart pounded with fear, sadness and rage. How could he…?

“I gave you everything… Everything! I gave you my love and never thought twice about it! I gave myself to you, willingly! I loved you!” He watched you shakily stand up and leaning against the wall for support, almost crashing down to the floor, yet seeming to be uninterested by your words. “Why would you do this?!”

The Uruk rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue. “You Tarks never learn… A real Uruk doesn’t mingle with pinkskins, and PINKSKINS are only useful for a handful of things: eating, fucking and killing. A human willingly being with an Uruk, expecting to be safe… It’s disgusting! Not to mention, a perfectly stupid idea fit for a stupid Tark. You’re really a fool, ain’t you?”

This damn maggot had been lying about it all this time. He lied about loving you. He took advantage of your kindness, your body, your love… Because that is the nature of an Uruk. Cruel, savage, bloodthirsty, with a hatred for other races. To hear him talk like that, to betray you, to mock you… It hurt so much.

It hurt.

A stray tear rolled down your cheek. You bit your lip to muffle a sob. This only made him laugh at your sorry state.

“Oh, are you going to cry, now? Do you finally realize how dumb you’ve been?”

How dare he…?

“Oy! Talkin’ to you, Tark!” He was getting closer. The bastard was getting closer. You could feel yourself shaking. Too close. Way too close.

And then your fist flew out to hit his gut, only to have your arm twisted behind your back, thrown down to lie on your front side on the ground. The Uruk just stared at you with an annoyed look and put a foot on your back as you squirmed once more under his grasp, trying to free yourself and clearly still in pain.

“Y’know what I really _love_?” The sound of him unsheathing his blade made you stop, wide gaze upon the floor beneath you. You felt him run the blade across the fabric of your tunic. “I _love_ seeing a pinkskin under me. I _love_ seeing one squirm and beg for their life. I _love_ the feeling of that _tight warmth_ around me.” Little by little, you could hear the blade ripping apart the fabric. He was cutting your tunic open like it was paper.

You began panicking.

“Please, no!” A hand quickly grabbed you by your hair and pulled back, the cold metal of his sword placed upon the exposed skin of your neck. You sobbed. This couldn’t be real… This wasn’t real…!

“Might wanna keep that mouth shut, Tark. Or I’ll cut your neck open even before the fun begins.”

Your whimpering was followed by a startled, pained yelp when your head was bashed against the stone ground.

“ _What did I just say?_ ”

Another bash. Your vision was darkening. Blood poured from the new wound on your forehead. You were certain that you’d have suffered a concussion by now. You couldn’t hear anything but the ringing in your ears. Your body felt cold. Was it because he ripped your tunic off and was about to do the same to your pants? 

Or because… You were about to die?

As you fell unconscious, eyes rolling to the back of your head, you thought you heard somebody calling out to you. You thought you heard a loud thud next to you. You thought you felt arms around you, carrying you away. Hands touching your face, shouting so distant that it sounded like whispers.

Maybe Death came to you, finally.

Maybe at last you could rest in peace.

* * *

_Ba-dum._

_Ba-dum._

There was pain.

_Ba-dum._

_Ba-dum._

And discomfort.

_Ba-dum._

_Ba-dum._

Where were you? Ow, your head… A headache?

_Ba-dum._

_Ba-dum._

Lights and colors hidden behind a curtain of red. You could hear noises outside. Talking, laughter, yelling.

Footsteps coming closer.

“Any news?”  
  
“Nothing. They’ve been out cold for a week, now. Maggot hit their head too hard, there’s a chance their brain is damaged.”  
  
“And the wounds?”  
  
“They’ve been clean and starting to close for the past two days. Poultice is working just fine.”

Takra the Elder…? Bûth the Vat Keeper? Both were Warchiefs at the fortress, and close friends of yours. Takra was part of the Outlaws while Bûth was a Machine.

**You were alive.**

“… How are the lads doing?”  
  
“They’re dealing with it however they can. The Captains are distracting them with training, but they’re also getting nervous with all the waiting.”  
  
“I see.”

You were alive! And everything hurt. There was a moment of silence. Did they go away? Did they leave you all alone?

“Junior has been asking about (Y/N).”  
  
“Has he, now? Pah! He’s a young fool obsessed with the pinkskin.”

‘ _Junior_ ’, aka Takra the Runt, had been one of the first friends you’ve made upon arriving at the fortress. Those Uruks and Ologs were hard to befriend, but with time and patience and lots of love, they’ve opened up. Once you got word that there was a second Takra, you joked about him being the grandchild of a Warchief. Of course, that had required a small explanation about family roles.

The Elder hadn’t exactly accepted it in the beginning, grumbling about young ones not respecting him at all and pinkskins being too stupid nowadays.

“And you are not?”  
  
“… I don’t know what you are talking about, you glob.”  
  
“You’ve spent more time with the Tark than I spend time with the newborn lads. You’re worried about them.”  
  
“Maybe I’m just tired of those dugs acting like headless chickens.”  
  
“Whatever you say, old man. You can keep on lying to yourself.”

If possible, you would have smiled at Takra’s low growl. You imagined him glaring up at Bûth with those piercing yellow eyes, fangs bared while the other stared at him with a smug smirk. However, you did feel the corner of your lips twitch, and nothing else.

And while Takra the Elder was a grumpy old pureblood Uruk, he could also have a secret sweet side. You knew about it because you’ve seen it before – he pushed others to be better at fighting while also pushing them away so he wouldn’t be seen as a softie.

More footsteps. Who would it be, this time?

“Alright, you globs! Out of the tent! You know you shouldn’t be here, Bûth. You are stinking up the place, covered in filth like that! You could infect the Tark’s wounds, even!”  
  
“Fine, I’m going. You coming, old man? Haven’t seen you since yesterday.”  
  
“Ugh… Fine! But I expect the pinkskin to wake up soon. If not, I’m gutting you, Lorm.”

Lorm the Surgeon. He was the best healer in the fortress, and a member of the Slaughter Tribe. While he would normally be covered in blood and bodily fluids just like Bûth, he had a conscience and often cleaned himself so to not infect his patients wounds. Unless they were… “Patients”. In that case, he didn’t care about hygiene at all, and cared less about allowing them to live.

You weren’t afraid to admit you’d been intimidated by him for the longest time. He once pointed out how he could pierce your flesh on certain areas and in the right way that the skin would easily slip off… And you kept away from him ever since.

Lorm was moving around the tent, and soon you felt claws upon your head, brushing against the bandages carefully.

“You scared the shrak out of all of us, Tark.”

You scared them? Imagine when that son of a bitch suddenly grabbed you from behind and started squeezing your throat like a kid with a plushie! He chuckled as if he could hear your thoughts. His hand was removed from your head, and he stepped away.

“Got a good bump on your head. No minor injuries, probably just the concussion. We’re prepared for you waking up without any memories. The lads were all talking about how they could rename you and teach you how to be like the rest of us, even. ‘ _Tark the Survivor_ ’, or ‘ _Tark the Pinkskin_ ’. Heard that they had plans to tell you you’re an Uruk with birth defects.”

That’s kinda cruel. But then again, they were Uruks. They are literally taught from birth how to be cruel.

“And you should have seen the look on their faces when I volunteered to heal you! Hah! Those globs were so afraid that I’d eat you up once I got you in my tent. While I do think you’d be a delicious meal, it wouldn’t be worth the fight against the entire fortress.”

Lorm, your Slaughter side is showing. Please stop. Your fingers twitched, itching to clench into fists as you grew uncomfortable.

“Not that I don’t like you, Tark, I do. Even though I know you stay away from me, I like you. You’re a troublemaker, making Uruks silly and stupid with your kindness. That’s good! Makes them easy to butcher. You distract them, I cut them up.”

Not… A very nice idea, but you appreciated it. You were glad to know he wasn’t insulted by the distance you settled between you.

“Which reminds me! The bastard that tried to kill you–”

_Was he still alive?!_

“–, Oh the **FUN** I had cutting him up into little pieces. Overlord was furious, you had to see him. Big old Ar-Janek Black-Thorn, _huffing and puffing_ as he stared down at the maggot! He looked ready to kill him on the spot, but let us all have a go at him. Best day ever! He kept on screaming and yelling and squirming, there was blood everywhere! ‘ _You’re all mad! The Tark has been using you! You lot are not true Orcs! I did you all a favor!_ ’… Cut his limbs right off after everyone had their fun. Overlord had the last piece, and smashed his head into mush with his foot. Sorry about that, by the way. Should have been you to do it.“

Ironic, isn’t it? How the tables turn. If you had been awake, you would have cut off his dick faster than he could say ‘caragor’. To know he had received his eternal punishment for messing you up… It satisfied you.

“Good thing Ûshgol found you in time. Otherwise I’d be the one to eat your body.”

_Ûshgol…_

He had been a slave, once. Always slipping past guards, careful not to be noticed. He learned how to hide in the darkness, to be quiet. Killed many to get into the ranks. Killed for money. Hid his face under a mask and hood because the slavery mark on his forehead would stay with him forever. His shame, his own secret.

Ûshgol the Shadow.

“But then again, you probably heard that from everyone else that visited you.”

You don’t remember anything else. In fact, this is the first time you’ve woken up after the incident. Your hands twitched again. You wanted to move. Your body hurt from being immobile for so long.

“Ah well… We’ll just have to wait some more.”

The light from outside coming past the tent flaps hurt to look at, but you did open your eyes slowly. Your vision blurred for a moment and then sharpened, allowing you to see properly. The red tent, the table beside your bed covered with ingredients. Lorm had his back to you, crushing and mixing a poultice that you would have guessed it’d be for your wound. Short black hair brushed back so it wouldn’t cover his red eyes, tan skin clean from a recent bath, pierced ears that twitched slightly as he hummed under his breath.

“… L…….. Lor….”

Your raspy attempt to call out his name made in freeze on spot. Damn it, you needed water. Your throat was so dry it could very well be Lithlad itself. The Uruk slowly turned around to take a glance at you with a startled expression, bushy eyebrows elevated high.

“… (Y/N)?”  
  
“… Lorm.”

Said orc began chuckling, eyes twinkling with happiness. His fangs bared into a grin. You mirrored his expression, ignoring the pain on your temple.

“Welcome back to the world of the living, Tark.”

* * *

It had been a day and half since you’ve woken up from a week long coma. From the moment Lorm heard your voice, you’ve been constantly given food and water to compensate for the meals you hadn’t the chance to get. You were as hungry as a Graug, stomach growling for nourishment. Maybe they weren’t able to feed you properly as you were asleep the whole time.

As for your headache, the Slaughter captain was happy to give you some leaves to chew on. They tasted weird, yet you soon felt the throbbing in your head disappear. “A quick fix”, Lorm had called it. “Good for when you’re hungover from a late night feast.” No wonder you had seldom seen any hungover orcs complaining around.

However, you were not allowed to get up from bed until the wound closed completely. Something about making sure your memories stay in place and don’t go flowing out in the wind the moment you step out of the tent. If you were to guess, you would have sworn that Lorm was trying to keep you close to make up for lost time due to you staying away from him before. He certainly seemed happy to have you there.

So there you were, lying on a bed, bored out of your mind. With nothing to do besides wait. The captain had left for a quick errand around the fortress, and you were all alone.

Sure, the Overlord had visited a bit earlier. Ar-Janek Black-Thorn, in all of his might and size, had to squeeze into the tent to see you in private. No one dared to enter the tent unless given permission, or they’d meet his wrath. Not even Lorm the Surgeon himself, the owner of the tent, tried to make the big Olog go away.

Ar-Janek, in truth, was the biggest, sweetest Olog you’ve ever seen. He could intimidate all of his foes, kill every single enemy that stepped into his path. With you? He was as gentle as a butterfly’s kiss, holding your hand into his own, which was as giant as his head, as if holding a mere porcelain doll. He spoke softly to you, asking about your health and what happened to you before he killed your ex-lover in rage. You reassured him that you were fine. He wasn’t so willing to accept that, and apologized for taking away your chance of revenge.

“In Uruk society, you stand up for your own, don’t you? I’m happy that you all had part on killing him.”

He gave you the biggest grin and brushed a giant finger against your face.

Later on came the Takra duo, the Elder and the Runt. Junior was ready to pounce onto the bed to give you a tight hug if not held back by the Warchief, who gave him such blazing gaze that could rival a thousand suns. And yet, Junior got his hug and an extra kiss on the cheek so he could calm down and have a chat with you, his big baby blues staring at you as if seeing you for the first time again – with wide eyes and an open mouth that curled up at the ends in an expression of amazement. He sat right next to you on the bed, holding your waist gently as he could all the while.

Takra the Elder, however, sat upon a nearby chair with his arms crossed, and looked quite befuddled while listening to your conversation. You offered him a seat at your side too, but he declined. The Uruk’s need to save face and reputation was always something that amused you. It was quite endearing, if you were to be honest.

While most Uruks had taken their time to visit you at the tent, a few had yet to appear to see you awake. For example, Bûth the Vat Keeper had been busy all day, bringing new boys to life. He sent a messenger with the promise to see you as soon as he could, which would be within the next few days. Other captains were busy with other things, either killing or stealing or whatever those Uruks and Ologs did nowadays.

There was only one captain in question that hadn’t bothered to make himself present after receiving the news, nor did anyone have seen him all week. That would be your savior.

Ûshgol the Shadow.

You knew well he didn’t like being visible at all. He was a very quiet, reserved Uruk. When others celebrated and held feasts, he watched from far away with that calculating gaze of his, never interacting with others unless he felt there was a need to. He was a captain of the Dark tribe, thus his secrecy.

You sighed and leaned back against the pillow behind you, staring at the fur covers in thought. Ever since Lorm told you about how Ûshgol had been the one to find you and rescue you, he had been on your thoughts for the longest while. And still, he hasn’t been around for a week, or so the Surgeon said.

There was movement at the corner of your eyes, a sudden blur hidden in the darkness. You did not dare to look up immediately, but you began smiling softly.

“Hey.”

_“… Hello, little one.”_

A rough, deep voice whispered back to you. Only then you allowed yourself to lift your gaze to stare into glowing white eyes that were covered by a mask, right under a dark hood. With the way his lower eyelids were lifted, you could easily tell he was smiling back at you.

“I assume I should thank you. And I believe that I now owe you my life? You did save me from certain death.”

“No such thing. Consider your debt inexistent.”

“A favor, then?” You arched an eyebrow.

Ûshgol slowly walked out of his hiding place and approached you with a shake of his head and a low chuckle. He sat next to you, clasping his hands together.

“No favors. That piece of shrakh had it coming all along.”

That made you pause. You gave him a small confused frown.

“You knew he’d attempt something?”

The Dark captain sighed and nodded. “The glob was easy to shadow. He didn’t find me, and so I learned that he was planning to get rid of you for good. I just didn’t know when.”

Your frown grew deeper. Ûshgol knew he’d try something, and kept to himself? There was a small part of you that felt enraged by not knowing that, and by how he hadn’t bothered giving out a warning.

“And you’ve never thought about telling me…?”

“I thought it’d be better if you didn’t have to worry about his betrayal. You wouldn’t be able to sleep at night.” His gaze lowered to your hands, which were tightly gripping the fur covers.

“And yet, you didn’t tell anyone else.”

“The Overlord knew he was about to betray him.”

“You didn’t say how, did you?”

“At first, he said that he’d make Ar-Janek thirsty for revenge, since he was already weakened, but didn’t say how. Then he mentioned using you to overthrow the Overlord, the night before he did it.”

White eyes met your pained stare. You let out a breath you didn’t know you’ve been holding with a sigh. The whole situation still made you feel so hurt.

“… How long have you known this?”

“I learned about the plan about one day before Zunn tried to kill you.”

You closed your eyes with a wince.

Zunn the Cruel, or Zunn the Traitor, as he would always been known as now, had been your lover, and one of the best Uruks you had ever met. Until that fateful day, he had been nothing but loving and kind. Now, he’s gone. All because of his stupid pride and selfishness, two of the few qualities of a good Uruk soldier who fights for the Dark Lord. And while you had started blaming Ûshgol for your near death experience, you now believed that he tried his best to solve the problem without suddenly creating chaos.

A warm, gloved hand touched your own, claws curling around your fingers. In reply, you allowed your hand to hold onto his, seeking for comfort.

“I was glad to have found you still alive, but I regret not keeping a constant eye on you from the moment I heard you were in danger. Any later, and you would have died.”

“Don’t beat yourself up over it. I’m alright, if only a bit sore.” You turned to him with a small grin. “I am thankful that you found me.”

The Shadow captain, however, still looked quite guilty about your fate. You could see in his gaze that he was hurting badly. The smile on your face faded into a worried expression, and your free hand reached up to carefully brush the side of his mask. He tensed up, still not used to being touched, and his eyes wandered to the ground.

“Ûshgol… Listen. You don’t know how much I’m grateful about you saving my life. I won’t forgive you because there is nothing for you to be forgiven for. It wasn’t your fault.”

“You were still hurt.” He whispered, claw tightening its grip around your hand.

You chuckled. “But I’m alive! Wounds can heal, a hacked body cannot. All I am saying is that you should stop blaming yourself for something that was out of your control. Besides…” There was a small rolling of eyes from you. “I’d have ended things with him even if he didn’t do it, any way.”

That got you a low, gruff laugh from him.

“You deserve better.”

His words made your insides feel warm, as well as your cheeks. You were happy to know that somebody else thought the same. And because of that, you pulled his hand up to your face to kiss his knuckles. The Uruk jumped slightly in surprise, and you saw his cheeks darkening under his hood and mask.

“That, I do!”

The captain stared at you with bewilderment for what seemed like eternity before clearing his throat while pulling his hand away. It had been awkwardly silent for a moment.

“… When is Lorm letting you go?”

You shrug in reply. “I don’t know. Could take a few more days until he decides he’s had enough of me. I think he’s keeping me around for fun.”

“Do you want me to stay around so he won’t chop you into pieces?”

“Nah. I don’t think he’s going to do that, Ûshgol.”

“Could be fooled.”

“He’s a Slaughter, not stupid.”

“Again, could be fooled.”

“Ûshgol, he’s practically your coworker!”

“Doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to have an opinion about the dug.”

“Ugh! Anyway, I don’t need you around because he could murder me at any time.”

“Very well. I understand.”

“But… You could stay, if you wish to?” You sheepishly gazed at him, batting your eyes several times. This made him pause and stare back with a blank look.

“… (Y/N)?”

“I want to make up for lost time.”


End file.
